Viola shook her head as she led Alice over to the sparse fiction section. She picked up a hardback book and held it in her hand as if it were unclean. “This is by a new British author who I heard about several months ago. I read an article saying that she was gaining interest in the UK. I figured I’d give her a try, although I must say I’m not impressed.”
Alice read the back cover of the first book. “Sounds promising,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
Viola rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
So Alice purchased her book and bade Viola good-bye, then went back outside. Just as she was crossing Hill Street she happened to notice a man and woman entering the Coffee Shop. She did a double take. It was her sister Louise accompanied by Lloyd Tynan! Of course, Alice assured herself, the two of them are simply discussing the inn. But then this was a Saturday, and people in Acorn Hill did like to talk—and sighting the mayor with a woman other than Aunt Ethel could easily set tongues to flapping. Oh dear, I hope Louise knows what she’s doing.
Alice sent up a silent prayer as she hurried toward home. She didn’t like feeling so alarmed over such a seemingly small thing, but she knew better than anyone her own tendency to worry too much about “small things.” Her compulsion to fret was also one of the biggest reasons for Alice’s fervent and active prayer life. She found herself constantly running to God with her worries—both large and small. She reassured herself that she was doing exactly what the Scriptures taught. Besides, as Vera was kind to point out, perhaps it was simply the way God had made her, a natural result of Alice’s very sensitive nature. She just tended to feel things more deeply and intensely than most people. Alice liked to see it in this positive light, but to be perfectly honest, she felt it was both a blessing and a curse.
Right now it troubled her to think that Aunt Ethel might become upset by word of Louise and Lloyd’s being together at the Coffee Shop. Like so many other things in life, Alice felt personally responsible for this too. If she hadn’t encouraged her sisters to develop the inn, or if she’d simply minded her own business and kept her mouth shut, then her aunt’s life would be proceeding happily along, and everything would still be the same as before. But then, Alice wondered, was keeping everything the same really for the best?
Oh dear! She just hoped the three of them weren’t getting in over their heads!
Chapter Twelve
By Sunday afternoon, Aunt Ethel’s nose was seriously out of joint. Alice suspected this was related to something that had been said at church that morning, probably something about Louise and Lloyd’s having been spied at the Coffee Shop the day before. All Alice knew was that Aunt Ethel had turned down Jane’s invitation for lunch, and with no explanation whatsoever. This could only mean trouble.
“I say we just let it be,” said Jane as she seasoned a large pot of her seafood stew.
“Yes.” Louise nodded but maintained her focus on her current knitting project, a white wooly scarf for Cynthia. “Let’s just let sleeping dogs lie.”
Alice sighed deeply. “Aunt Ethel may appear to be a sleeping dog at the moment, but you better watch out when she wakes up. She’s been known to have a pretty sharp bite.”
“Well, who’s she going to bite?” asked Jane. “Lloyd or Louise?”
“Hard to say-maybe both.” Alice tasted the sample that Jane held out to her. “Oh, Jane, that’s delicious.”
“I’ve felt Aunt Ethel’s teeth before,” said Louise. “I’m not the least bit worried.”
“Speaking of worries,” Jane tossed in another twig of rosemary and replaced the lid on the pot, “what did Fred say about Jim’s bid and contract?”
“He seemed to think everything was in order. He agrees with you two that the price is more than fair.”
“See?” Louise pointed a knitting needle at Alice triumphantly.
Alice nodded. “Yes, but it makes me feel better to know that.”
“Good.” Jane slid a pale plump loaf of unbaked wheat bread into the hot oven. “That’s one less thing for you to worry about.”
“Besides, we have some new things to think about right now.” Louise set her knitting aside and reached for a large tapestry bag.
“And that would be?”
Louise ceremoniously set her bag on the kitchen table. She pulled out a notebook and a large deck of paint samples. “I’ve been gathering a few things to help get us going, and it’s time to start discussing paint colors.”
“Oh, good,” said Jane as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Paint. Now this is right up my alley.”
“I think we should start with the exterior colors,” said Louise. “Since that’s the first part of the house that people will see.”
“I agree,” said Alice. “But what’s wrong with keeping it like it is now? I mean it’s been that pale peach for as long as I can remember, and it just seems to be fitting. Besides, isn’t that a traditional color for this style of house?”
“I tend to agree with you, but I thought we should at least explore the options,” said Louise. “I thought perhaps we’d like to paint the trim something other than white this time. Maybe a nice dark green would appear more inviting?”
Jane cleared her throat. “I’m afraid you’re both being much too conservative. For one thing, most Victorian homes were never painted in pastels originally. That’s something that came along later. Most Victorian era homes were painted in fairly intense, vivid colors—and some wild combinations too. You should see some of the painted ladies in California.”
“Painted ladies?” Alice frowned. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
“That’s what they call them. I’ve seen purple and green and gold and magenta—and all on the same house.”
“Good heavens!” said Louise.
“It does sound rather garish,” agreed Alice.
“Some might think so, but the truth is they are historically correct. Once you get used to it, it’s really rather warm and friendly looking.”
“But purple and green and magenta.” Louise gasped. “Certainly you wouldn’t want to see our house painted like that, would you, Jane?”
“Well, I’m not opposed to doing a little research to find out the original colors of the Berry home.”
“The only photos we have are in black and white,” said Alice.
“Yes, but there are paint experts who can photograph chips of the old paint. They use a high-powered microscope, then somehow they put it into a computer in order to discover what color was originally underneath.”
Louise looked interested. “Yes, I believe I saw that on This Old House once. It seems to me that they finally decided on an awful shade of mustard.”
“I happen to think mustard is a nice color,” defended Jane.
“But what if our original colors turn out to be horrible?” asked Alice. “The townspeople might throw a fit. Just yesterday, Hope, down at the Coffee Shop, was reminding me of the time when Percy Thomas painted his house yellow. It created such a scandal that you’d have thought he’d shot his mother. Honestly, people were really shaken up.”
Jane laughed. “Well, maybe this town needs a little shaking.”
Louise looked thoughtful. “Now that I think about it, Lloyd told me how important it would be for us to preserve the historical integrity of our house. Do you suppose he meant the paint colors too?”
“I don’t know,” said Alice. “But what if it was originally painted hot pink and chartreuse and peacock blue?”
Louise’s hand flew over her mouth. “Goodness, you don’t think our own relatives would have such ghastly taste, do you?”
Jane shrugged. “You never know.”
Alice looked at Jane’s tie-dyed T-shirt, a combination of hot pink, teal blue, tangerine and lime green, and then winced. “I’m not saying that I don’t like bright colors, Jane, I, uh, I just meant that—”
“Hey, it’s okay. I realize that our tastes aren’t exactly the same. I just hope we can do what’s
best for the house and not be complete fuddy-duddies about it.”
Louise patted her pearls. “Well, I’m sure I must come across as a fuddy-duddy to you sometimes, Jane, but I prefer to think of myself more as a classic.”
“Classic is good,” Jane reassured her. “But sometimes a little bit of well-chosen color can really add some energy and life to a place. I don’t know about you two, but I’d like our inn to have some individuality and charm. I don’t want it to look like a house that belongs to three little old ladies.”
“I agree,” said Alice. “Even though I love antiques, I’m not really fond of things like lace doilies, tasseled lamps or collections of porcelain figurines that have to be carefully dusted every other day.”
Louise frowned as if she were deeply offended now, and Alice realized that, other than mentioning flowered upholstery and layers of tablecloths, she had just about perfectly described Louise’s home in Philadelphia. In fact, now that Alice thought about it, she felt certain that those sorts of items must be the majority of contents of all those crates that Louise had the moving men cart to the basement for storage last week.
“Oh, Louise,” said Alice in her most apologetic tone, “I’m not suggesting that your taste isn’t perfectly—”
“Look, it’s obvious that all three of us have very differing tastes and styles.” Louise fanned open the color deck on the kitchen table. “Perhaps we shouldn’t attempt to resolve that just yet. Maybe we should simply begin by choosing our interior colors first. I know that I’d love to have my new bedroom’s woodwork repainted in a nice shade of green, and perhaps some floral wallpaper. Any objections to that?”
“I think we should be free to do whatever we like in our own bedrooms,” said Jane as she began poring over the colors, flipping back and forth and pulling out ones that she appeared to like. The sisters had agreed that they would all take rooms on the third floor, leaving the second floor for guests.
“I completely agree,” said Alice quickly. “Those spaces should be ours alone to decorate however we please.”
“Hmm,” Jane pointed to a curious shade of reddish purple. “I think I might like to give this one a try.”
Alice blinked at the strong color. “Really, the entire room?”
Jane nodded. “I think it would look fantastic with the golden wood floors and really set off my blond Danish furniture. Then I’ll put some of my art on the walls, and voilà, I’ll feel right at home.”
Louise peered down to read the name of the color. “Oriental Eggplant? Goodness, Jane, are you absolutely certain about this?”
“Yep. I can’t wait to break out the paintbrushes.”
Alice knew right then that their troubles were only beginning.
By the middle of the following week, it was obvious that some decisions regarding the exterior colors of the house needed to be made soon. Besides, Alice felt that anything would be better than the way their house looked right now. The painters had begun their work by power washing and then sanding and wire brushing the siding until it looked absolutely horrible. Then they had used a variety of primer colors to cover the bare pieces of lap siding—pale shades of gray, green, even blue were now splotched about the house. Talk about a painted lady!
Jim had explained that this was customary, a way to use up leftover paint and save money, but even so it seemed disrespectful to Alice. She felt their old house must be thoroughly embarrassed to be seen in such a state, sort of like the woman who gets locked out in the front yard after slipping out for the newspaper wearing only her faded bathrobe and pink fuzzy slippers. Alice knew for certain that she wouldn’t want to stand out there for very long.
“Now, I hate to push you ladies,” said Jim one evening just after Alice arrived home from work. “But my paint crew will be done with the prepping and priming by early next week. So unless you want your house to go all winter looking like a great big pinto pony, you’d better give us some paint colors to work with here.”
“I sent the paint chips out for analysis on Monday,” explained Jane as they gathered around the kitchen table and studied a booklet on historical paints that Jane had sent for on the Internet. “I expect to hear something soon.”
“Good.” He nodded. “I’m counting on you.” Jim winked at her as he tipped his hat and left.
“I think he likes you, Jane,” said Louise in a teasing tone.
“Oh, get real!” Jane rolled her eyes as she grated some Parmesan cheese over the salad she had just tossed. “Even if I were ready for something like that, Jim Sharp is definitely not my type.”
“Well, anyway, it might make him work harder if he thinks he’s impressing you,” said Louise.
“Sort of like the way you’re impressing Lloyd?” asked Jane.
Alice waited for her older sister’s response.
“Goodness, Jane, you certainly don’t think I’m trying to impress Lloyd, do you?”
Alice cleared her throat. “Well, Louise, that’s not exactly how Aunt Ethel sees it.”
“Aunt Ethel has actually spoken to you?” asked Jane.
“When?” demanded Louise. “We’ve scarcely seen her all week. Why, I even ran into her at the grocery store and she skittered away like a scared mouse.”
“What’s up, Alice?” asked Jane.
Alice could tell she had both her sisters’ full attention now. She smiled. “Well, if I can take off my shoes and someone will pour me a cup of hot tea, I will tell you both the whole story.”
Jane and Louise both scrambled for the teapot and kettle and Alice exchanged her work shoes for a comfortable pair of slippers and, within a matter of minutes, all three sisters were seated around the kitchen table.
“All right, Alice, spill the beans,” commanded Louise.
“Well.” Alice took a slow sip of the Earl Gray tea before she set down her cup. “Aunt Ethel called me at work this morning. She asked if she could meet me at the hospital for lunch.”
“And?” Louise was tapping her fingers on the table with impatience.
“Naturally, I said, sure, why not.”
“Come on, Alice!” Jane was losing patience, but Alice was enjoying having the upper hand for a change.
“Aunt Ethel met me in the cafeteria where we both decided to try the blue plate special, which I must say is nothing at all like Jane’s delectable lasagna—”
“Alice Christine!” said Louise. “Quit stringing us along.”
“Right. So right there in the middle of the noisy hospital cafeteria, Aunt Ethel tearfully informs me that she is certain that she and Lloyd are history now. She is convinced that Louise has permanently stolen his affections and—”
“Oh poppycock!” Louise stood and started to pace across the tiled kitchen floor, fingering her pearls like a rosary with each step.
“Go on,” urged Jane.
“Now it seems that Aunt Ethel is considering moving to Potterston.”
Louise stopped and looked at Alice. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“What about Aunt Ethel?” asked Jane. “Is she serious, or is she just pulling your leg?”
“You can never tell with Aunt Ethel,” said Alice. “I’ve seen her get dramatic over things in the past. Sometimes it’s just a bluff, but you can never know for sure. She said she’s already found an affordable apartment complex for senior citizens.”
Louise sank down into a kitchen chair. “Goodness, I feel absolutely terrible now.”
“Aunt Ethel wanted me to ask you something, Louise.” Alice couldn’t help but suppress a giggle.
Louise scowled. “Well, go ahead, ask me.”
“Aunt Ethel wants to know if your intentions toward Lloyd are honorable or not.”
“Honorable?” Louise blinked. “Were those her exact words, Alice?”
Alice nodded.
“Well, what on earth does she mean by that?” Jane shook her head.
Alice laughed, but quickly recovered when she saw Louise’s grim face. “I’m sorr
y, Louise.”
“Honorable?” Louise exhaled slowly as she shook her head. “Perhaps I’ve let this thing go too far.”
“Didn’t you say that Lloyd has already walked you through most of the city’s red tape?” Jane peered at Louise. “Aren’t all our permits in process and looking fairly promising now?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s going on?” asked Jane.
Louise waved her hand. “Oh, nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Lloyd has turned out to be … well, a very nice friend. Honestly, that is absolutely all there is to it.”
“Is that what Lloyd thinks too?” asked Jane.
“Well, now I’m not entirely sure.” Louise grew thoughtful. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any kind of involvement, well, of the romantic kind, that I guess it’s possible I may have confused the poor man a bit.”
“As well as Aunt Ethel,” added Alice.
“Dear me, I wonder what I should do now.”
“You should tell Lloyd Tynan.” Jane went to check on the oven.
“Gently,” said Alice. “Let him down gently.”
“You’re right,” agreed Louise. “I’ll take care of it at once.”
Alice sighed. “Aunt Ethel will be glad to hear of it.”
“Should I tell her too?” Louise looked doubtful.
“I don’t think so,” said Alice. “Somehow I think it might go better with her if she hears it from someone else.”
“Trying to protect Aunt Ethel’s pride, are we?” Jane closed the oven door and removed her mitt.
“Just her feelings,” said Alice. “I know she comes across as a troublesome busybody sometimes, but she is the last of Father’s family.”
“Good old Alice,” said Jane. “Always looking out for everyone else.”
Louise excused herself to call Lloyd.
Chapter Thirteen
Alice was surprised to discover that she actually liked Jane’s new bedroom once the painting and decorating was complete. As it turned out, Oriental Eggplant wasn’t nearly as garish as she’d expected.
“It makes the room feel cozy,” she admitted when Jane proudly showed it to her. “I like how the dark color makes your art stand out. It reminds me of a gallery.”
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